I'd written a long review detailing all my grievances with this book, but instead I'll keep it short and sweet. There will be some spoilers.

It tries to be an important story about how about how during WWII 90% of the Jewish population in Denmark was saved by folks helping them across Øresund to Sweden, but it explores.. none of that. Instead, it tries to be a romance novel, and a bad one at that. 

First of all, it's poorly written. We have two POV's, one in 2018 and another, the main POV, in 1943, but it's revealed almost halfway through that the 1943-POV is actually a diary? Which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever as it doesn't read anything like a diary. It does, however, read like something that could've done with a few more rounds of editing.

The characters are.. one and the same, to be honest. One-dimensional, flat, boring. The two mains, Inger in 1943 and Cecilie in 2018, are both obsessed with men (Inger with validation and Cecilie with, well, validation, and the fact that her husband left her because she can't have kids, which is apparently an awful quality to possess. Now she hates Christmas because that's a family holiday?? Make it make sense). Inger falls for several menfolk during the book (and spends more time gawking at any even slightly attractive man than she does doing any resistance work, or, you know, developing a personality, but that's neither here nor there) but never in any really deep way because we never get any depth of any kind. Cecilie falls for the first man to pay attention to her, which is on par with the course. Inger's two gal pals seem to be there to explore more odd romantic subplots, as well as completely unnecessary twists that add nothing to the story. Fun times.

(It's not. Not fun times at all)

Thank you to the publisher and Netgalley for providing me an ARC in exchange for my honest review.